Last night, I was hungry for salad. Late night snack. And I had one of those pre-mixed salads in a bag. So I’m in luck. I guess.

Except the damn bag isn’t one of those “zipper pouch” kinds, which means I have to cut it open. And the scissors are all the way in the living room (all of probably 15 feet). Too far for me to travel. So I look around me for the nearest sharp object. A knife. I’m in luck again.

Now I should have gone with a slicing technique to open the bag, or even a poking one. But no, for some reason I go for a stabbing motion. Seemed like a good idea at the time.

First couple of attempts didn’t work very well, because the bag (being plastic and all) would yield with each slash. So I take my time. Carefully brace the bag against the counter with my fingers spread, holding it firmly in place. I’m ready for it this time.

Pull knife back. Aim. And…

Stab.

Right on the side of my fucking thumb. I thought I’d hit an artery or something the way the blood just started to flow. But then again, maybe it was the alcohol in my system, thinning my blood.

Oh well, apply pressure, clean up blood. Had a hell of a time trying to eat my salad with one hand.

Sure hope I learned something from this experience, but probably didn’t.

Oh, and my thumbs okay. It’s just a small cut, there just seemed to be a lot of blood.

Ron.